Wassup.
The time is 23:00 and it's time to write baby.
Set in early season 13, before Cas is back from the Empty so around after Patience.
Rated T for slight violence and language.
Enjoy.
—xxx—
It's four goddamn am, and that Nephilim better have a hell of a good excuse for waking Dean up.
Dean's room light flickers on and off again.
See, after what helping with the Mosley family, the brothers got a call from Jody, who told them that she found out that the wraith had an accomplice, asking for backup, Sam jumped and insisted that Dean stay after getting his knee busted and still being worn out and all. Then the younger Winchester promptly left two hours later on his way to South Dakota.
His lights stayed on for one...two...three seconds before flickering off again.
Dean was aware that secretly Sam just wanted an excuse to try and get him to bond with the literal devil's spawn, and he wasn't buying it. Hell, he was more likely to kill him than to form relations with him.
The hunter's light flickered once more in a strange series of long-shorts before he finally stumbled out of his warm, comfy bed, completely pissed off.
Dean put in a pair of sweats before stomping towards the Nephilims room, and violently slamming the door open(without knocking, mind you).
In the dim light flooding from the hallway he took note of the made bed with only slight wrinkles, the almost bare room, and the lack of freaky glowing-eyed man child.
Ugh. The lights in the bunker flared weekly. He just wants to sleep.
The Winchester was aggravated, but not aggravated enough to go on a wild goose chase at four am to tear into the cause of his sleep disruption.
Dean shuffled back towards his room, before stopping when he noticed the light coming from under the bathroom down the hallway.
Found the freaky glowing-eyed man child.
He rubbed his eyes with his hands before heading over and giving the bathroom door a sharp knock.
"If you want to practice your powers, fine, to it. I could care less. But don't do it at four in the fucking morning", Dean said, raising his voice. Silence answered him, but he saw a shadow move under the door. Angered, he turned the door knob and pushed it open.
"Look, I don't care-". Dean stopped in his tracks when he took in the sight before him.
The kid was sitting on the bathroom floor, dressed in a shirt and sweats, shivering, legs under him like a sort of praying position while his cheek and right arm was pressed against the toilet seat and the left dangled by his side.
Years of being big brother to Sammy taught Dean certain things. The younger man's eyes where red-rimmed and glassy, staring into the distance. His cheeks were flushed. Fever, he recognized.
(Dean made a mental note to look up If Nephilims can even get sick).
The Nephilim opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes flared gold, this face contorted into a pained grimace, his left arm curled over his stomach, and he retched loudly into the toilet.
The lights flickered with each violent shiver and retch.
This snapped Dean out of his trance and leaned the door close, hurried over to the other side of the bathroom and wet a cloth with warm water.
The kid had stopped puking so Dean pulled him away from the toilet and crouched down and started cleaning his face and neck. He was completely out of it; whispering to himself and shivering in his fever induced state. After scanning the bathroom and quickly finding a small cup, Dean filled it with water and coaxed the younger man into drinking small sips.
"Not…here….here…turn...around", he mumbled.
"Sorry bud, if you want me to understand what you say, use full sentences."
Tiredly, the blond turned his bloodshot eyes towards Dean "I...apologize for...w-waking you up", he cleared his throat multiple times and glanced towards the door "You can...leave."
Oh. Oh. Now Dean gets it. And now Dean feels like a grade a asshole and sort of regrets insulting the kid to the point where he's puking his guts out but doesn't feel like he wouldn't care.
He tells himself again that he in fact doesn't remotely like the kid that makes his heart clench cause he's just so goddamn much how Sammy used to be.
The elder Winchester ignored the comment and rummaged around in the medicine cabinet until he found what he was looking for and popped two pills into the bathrooms other residents hand with the cup and ordered him to take them.
The half angel wordlessly did as commanded.
Dean sighed "You well enough to stand and go lay down ?" The person in question thought for a second before nodding slowly and Dean gently pulled him up.
—
It was a slow and borderline agonizing process to getting to the bed, but it beat sitting on the cold, sort of dirty and uncomfortable tile floor of the bathroom.
After getting the sick youth settled into the bed, blanket up to his belly and head propped up on the headboard, Dean pulled up a chair and sat down at the side of the bed. The beds occupant stared at him with half open eyes.
"What,you want to hear a bedtime story or something?", the hunter gruffly said.
"Is..is this punishment?" Even though the less reddened cheeks indicated that the fever went down, apparently he still was out of it.
"What are you talking about?"
"I mean, I haven't done anything yet...Is it punishment for my existence? Or for crimes I yet have to commit…" The less than two week old looked guiltily down at his hands.
It suddenly occurred to Dean that he might have smacked his head against the floor to many times as a kid.
Of course someone who is technically an infant wouldn't we aware of what illness is. Or that he has it. He had thought it was punishment for things like his birth. It felt like something got caught in the hunters throat.
Dean hesitated before answering, trying to be careful with his words " Kid, you're not being punished for anything. You're just...sick. There are just little bad things in you and your body is just fighting them off." Man he really wishes he would have payed attention in eighth grade biology.
The golden eyes widened "Little bad things? Like...me?"
Wow this kid his waaay too young for this kind of low self esteem.
Which, mind you, is sort of partially Deans fault.
Dean winced " No. These things...Their parasites basically. They try to take and hurt the body, and choose to invade and take things that-"
"What's their other choice?", the Nephilim interrupts, and suddenly Dean isn't sure if their still talking about virus's.
When he answers he makes sure to look the other in the eye "No body is spitting you out, so it seems as if you're still OK." Dean hesitated slightly before resting his hand for a second on his arm before pulling away. The curly haired blond's formed mouth small 'o' before nodding. He looked exhausted.
"Now go to sleep. You look like you took three rounds with a hungry grizzly and unsurprisingly lost."
The Nephilim smiled at the joke and pulled the blanket up and shuffled down, resting his head against the pillow and looking up at Dean "Good Night."
"Good Nigh- Well it's actually more like good mor-", Dean cut himself off and tried again.
"Good Night…Jack."
Jack's eyes glowed faintly in return before he closed them and slept peacefully under Deans watch.
—xxxxxx—
Wow it's hard to find different ways to address someone without saying their name.
I completed this the day after around the same time so I suppose, it still has the late night feel.
That's chill.